I listen to you call me a dream
one hundred times,
beneath the same moon
as yours,
it knows my hymns,
and I ask it kindly
if it wouldn’t mind
singing them to you.
It replies,
“To Him?  Those sorts of
Most Highs
would scorn me,
even if I had lips
to sing what was made
for his ears.
You sing them,
and I will only whisper
that he should listen.”
I tell the moon,
all I want to write are lullabies!
I want to soothe him soundly
to sleep from
hammock cocoons and
merlot bubble baths,
indecently wrapping my legs
around his waist,
to save space,
even though there is
so much of it.

27 thoughts on “the moon and melodies

      1. I’m interested in anything moon-related, and with this you have captivated me.

      1. Oh gracious moon, now as the year turns,
        I remember how, heavy with sorrow,
        I climbed this hill to gaze on you,
        And then as now you hung above those trees
        Illuminating all. But to my eyes
        Your face seemed clouded, temulous
        From the tears that rose beneath my lids,
        So painful was my life: and is, my
        Dearest moon; its tenor does not change.
        And yet, memory and numbering the epochs
        Of my grief is pleasing to me. How welcome
        In that youthful time -when hope’s span is long,
        And memory short -is the remembrance even of
        Past sad things whose pain endures.
        – Giacomo Leopardi

          1. I think we should fear balance. If the scales are in parity all motion will eventually stop. There has to be an imbalance, a fluctuation, an instability or else nothing would ever happen… not even a thought.

              1. Years ago i visited a Buddhist temple outside Canberra. No real reason behind the visit, just felt like chatting to a Buddhist. “We don’t do visits” said the rather perplexed monk at the door. “But you do have butter tea, right?” I asked. “Of course! Care for one?” An hour or so later he told me the perfect Ying-Yang symbol is not equal rather 49% to 51%. That’s the ratio they strive for when creating the artwork. Doesn’t matter which is which, white or black, just as long as there is a minute, almost imperceptible imbalance. That, Shrinks, made me smile… and the butter tea was exceptional!

Love you, too

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